


So, let's make things physical.

by oldhotradio



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/F, F/M, M/M, This Is STUPID, happy halloween yall, i seriously apologize because i dont even KNOW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldhotradio/pseuds/oldhotradio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis threw a Halloween party and everyone was making out and he really regretted having Harry (feat. his whipped boyfriend) as the DJs but then this one song came on, and then, you know, his friends started making out too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So, let's make things physical.

**Author's Note:**

> Whatever you think this is gonna be, it's probably not. 
> 
> Also this, in my opinion, is pretty pointless and useless (and I started and finished this all tonight so it's kinda rushed???) but I've always wanted to write a Halloween thing and I couldn't just not write something for my favorite holiday of the year right? Even though this is definitely not what I had envisioned to be the outcome I hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> edit: ok yeah i definitely must have been drunk when i wrote this last night because i've never cringed when correcting so many grammatical errors in my life

"Okay, can you—just—not..." 

 

Louis didn't think his party would end up this way. This generation was sadder than he thought, and he'd realized this in the midst of being maneuvered through the endless amount of ghouls and vampires that were liplocking straight down his staircase.

 

All the while muttering some chopped and screwed swear words, the boy was thrown around carelessly and dodging tongues left and right until he hit his living room; Where he dusted his shirt off with the least bit of dignity and pride that still remained in him. 

 

It had all began with some half-naked nurse and a playboy bunny—couldn't be older than 7 years old—practically sucking eachothers' faces off at the top of the staircase. Pretty intensely. So intensely in fact that Louis had almost immediately found himself giving the two adolescents a long and detailed lecture, (of course having to yell the entire time over that song Nobody Knows by the artist Nobody Fucking Cares, courtesy of the DJs of the night: Harry 'anti-mainstream' Styles and Niall 'pro-harry' Horan.)

 

"Y'alright?" A distressed Zayn had to ask over the music and a cigarette as soon as his always "way too amused" (sly and sensual) smirk and "beady little black" (hazel, actually) eyes landed on a distressed Tomlinson.

 

"Do I look alright?!" Louis snapped up a brow, nearly pulling his hair out of his skull with now both hands. Because no, he obviously wasn't okay. Between 25% of his party goers already too wasted to function, another 25% already high, and the last 50% either dry humping or having an orgy up in his parents room, Louis was going insane. And then there were his friends at the corner. The four by the beat up couch and the DJ's little table occupied by red cups, cigarette boxes, Halloween treats, and a laptop with all kinds of wires linking to the blaring speakers at all corners of the house. That's where they were. The only four guys who hadn't even bothered to dress up. 

 

(Apart from Niall, Harry's own little build a bear who had been mandated to come out with leprechaun hat on no matter how ridiculous he thought it looked without having the full costume to go with it.)

 

(But that was it.)

 

(And actually, everyone secretely thought the opposite. That he looked adorable. With just the hat. The costume would dramatically have been 'way too fucking much' for Louis to handle.)

 

Zayn: One way-too-chill guy sitting with a cigarette in his mouth, arm draped protectively over that buzzcut, often known as Liam, who was looking around as if surrounded by a whole bunch of STD positive druggies, (not far from being very accurate, by the way) and hadn't abandoned his hand sanitzer since he got there. And there was Harry, who linked to the problem of the supposed "party music", which was actually some playlist that was filled of all this "sexual indie-rock narry shit" (as Louis mostly to referred to it), and it was probably the reason for everyone becoming so damn horny all of a sudden. And then of course, there was Niall. Niall, the boy who a good 70% of the time sat supportively behind his sweaty DJ, nodding to the music heedlessly with an orange bowl of cheetos in his hands; The orange bowl that after he had emptied, he'd "sneak" back to one of the refreshment tables and Louis would have to exasperatedly refill it and pretend he didn't completely catch on to the fact that the blonde was stealing all of the huge fucking bags of cheese balls he put out. The other 30% of the time, Ireland over the there was either laughing too hard over god knows what, complimenting Harry on his choice of song, or coughing and waving his hands around due to Zayn's passing on a reckless amount of secondary smoke. No matter what he was doing though, he did it with a giggle—and Louis was almost going to smack that grin off the little shits face before another painfully unknown song filled the space in the house and he had to throw his hands up in defeat.

 

_All I wanna get is, a little bit closer._

_All I wanna know is, can you come a little closer?_

 

"Harry!" _Of course, yes, Niall, bow down and suck your boyfriend's cock for his again very thoughtful recognition to the fact that you,_ "Love this song!" _A song that by the way, NO ONE ELSE FUCKING KNO—_  


 

Oh.

 

Wait.

 

_Here comes a breath, before we get, a little bit closer._

_Here comes a rush, before we touch, come a little closer._

 

Louis' thought process was put on pause as his head slowly turned to keep up with his eyes, who were flickering over to Liam. Not Zayn, who had softly nodded his head along with every song Harry had played that night so far, but Liam. Liam, the one that normally thought Harry's taste in anything was weird—was actually beaming. Nodding his head like, jesus, like he was actually at a party rather than a fucking funeral. And that's not even the best part, because when Louis turned his body to the people he once had his back turned to, they were all moving too. Pulling eachother up from the couches, from the floor, off the walls and down the stairs. Bobbing their heads before throwing them back toward the ceiling as they blew smoke from their lips blissfully. It was everyone interlacing their fingers with someone, anyone, that probably made Louis' night. And a variety of costumes automatically intoxicated in music, for once, pulling eachother out to form a crowd in his parents' good for nothing open space between the couches—to shuffle their feet against the ground awkwardly, because how the hell could one actually dance to that song?

 

He smirked—no, god, Louis actually smiled that night. And right when he was beginning to believe that maybe it had been a better idea to watch horror films with the boys in Zayn's basement on Halloween night—he was instead tapping his little Toms enveloped foot against the ground as if this was a song he'd known for years. 

 

_The night sky is changing overhead._

_It's not just all physical, I'm the type who won't get oh so critical._

 

And just as he whipped around, parting his lips to make a statement on how maybe Harry's music taste wasn't one hundred percent irrelevant, he was greeted with that very familiar scene. The one where Harry's hand was cupping Niall's flushed cheek, and Niall's paler one resting on one of Harry's headphones as they shared one of their kinda kisses. The one where their lips, their tongues, entire mouths would be laced in eachothers—but it wasn't ever in the disgusting type of way, Louis thought. Because Harry and Niall could've made anything seem sweet and innocent at the time, and while it almost it made everyone sick to their stomachs no one could lie and say that they weren't beautiful together. Not even Louis, with his sarcastic and overdramatic inappropriate comments at all of the wrong times. 

 

Louis now dumbfoundedly switched his vision toward Zayn, hoping to get a good chat out of him before seeing that—oh, okay—he was making out with Liam.

 

_So let's make things physical, I won't treat you like you're oh so typical._

_I want you close, I want you._

 

Zayn, who was tugging at Liam's shirt greedily with that little damn smirk that always had remained plastered onto his face even when his lips met with his "not boyfriend, because labels dehumanize" people like him. And Liam, who had proud hand cupping his usually way too high and philosophical boyfriend's jaw, stroking that facial hair that he seemed to really, (really) like those days. 

 

Then Louis. Who had both hands on either of hips as he glanced around with a very relieved and quite amused sigh. Because finally, his party had life. Was it a little off seeing goblins, ghosts, kittens, vampires, werewolves and mermaids rubbing across his living room floor? Way. Was he satisfied? More than he expected to be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I use a lot of italics and commas and dashes and parenthesis. Should I apologize for that? The makeout song is Closer by (my girlfriend) Tegan and (her sister) Sara, by the way, if you didn't know.
> 
> Happy Halloween! If you've got nothing better to do just stay home and watch the Nightmare Before Christmas and pointlessly paint your face like I am.


End file.
